


Telling Jackie

by charivari



Series: Bulk/Jack [1]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:44:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3952870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charivari/pseuds/charivari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bulkhead made up his processor about joining Optimus. That doesn't make telling Jackie any easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Telling Jackie

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, my first post for AO3 :) Hopefully I got all the tags right. Anyhoo I ship Bulkhead/Wheeljack hard. Their relationship gives me the feels. I apologize for the super lame title. I couldn't think of anything better XD

"Jackie I have to tell you something," Bulkhead forces out.

He's standing in the other Wrecker's "workshop", a room at the far end of the base. A room designated to Wheeljack after he almost blew up his hab suite working on his bombs. Usually Bulkhead avoids it, considering the amount of combustible material. But since Jackie is here, he doesn't have any choice. 

"Yeah?" Wheeljack says after a moment, in a distracted tone.

His backstrut is facing Bulkhead as he tinkers with something, presumably explosive. Bulkhead doesn't like the idea of telling Wheeljack while he's holding a bomb. If he reacts badly, which is very likely, Bulkhead prefers to be attack by fists or swords, something he can at least defend against. Though he feels so guilty at the moment he probably wouldn't lift a servo to block him.

He shouldn't feel guilty. He knows it's the right decision. Joining up with Optimus. He's already told Kup and Springer. They had understood. They hadn't taken it personally. But neither of them were Jackie. They weren't his best friend. 

Out of all the Wreckers, he cares about Wheeljack the most. But he also cares about his planet, his race as a whole and that's why he's doing this. 

"Jackie," he tries again, "I - we need to talk."

Wheeljack finally turns, revealing it is indeed one of his trademark bombs in his servo. His scarred mouth smiles,

"What is it Bulk?"

The casualness of the question, the smile. Both throw off Bulkhead's nerve.

"I - er - what are you working on?" he asks and inwardly kicks himself.

Wheeljack's smile widens into a grin. A mischievous glint in his optics. 

"Just some calibrations," he tells Bulkhead, "Improving the blast radius."

Bulkhead does a nervous intake.

"Jackie don't you think your bombs are explosion-y enough?"

Wheeljack laughs,

"Explosion-y? I like that. And to answer your question, no."

Bulkhead tries to get back on track.

"Do you think you could put that down for a moment?" he asks. 

"I don't know," a purr enters Wheeljack's voice, much to Bulkhead's chagrin, "Will it be worth my while?"

"Jackie," Bulkhead vents, "I didn't come here for... that."

By that he means seduction. Not that either of them have any skill in that department. They're warriors, not talkers. Straight into the fray. One klik they are laughing over high grade, the next Wheeljack has slammed his glossa into Bulkhead's mouth. A playful wrestling match turns into a hasty grab for interface panels. 

But as much as Bulkhead would like to savor Wheeljack that way, one last time before he leaves, that's not why he's here. Not that Wheeljack will probably be in much of mood for interfacing once he learns the truth.

Still at this particular moment he's none the wiser, giving Bulkhead a sly smile before he turns and sets the bomb on his work bench.

"You don't usually drop by my workshop Bulk," he says, turning back to the larger mech, "That makes this a special occasion don't ya think?"

Bulkhead vents again,

"Jackie. I told you..."

Before he can finish, Wheeljack has closed the gap between them.

"Less talk, more frag."

He kisses Bulkhead before he can get another word in. Bulkhead does a frankly half-sparked job of trying to push him away. Because the moment he feels the scarred lips he wants desperately to kiss back. He can't stop his arms latching around the smaller mech, dragging him tightly against his chest-plate.

Wheeljack abruptly breaks away from his mouth.

"Bulk," he wheezes, "You're kinda cuttin' off my circulation." 

Bulkhead released him, only for Wheeljack to fall to his knees. He could push him away. But he doesn’t, only stands there feeling guilty as Wheeljack nuzzles against his interface panel. He’s always had a hard time saying no to him. Especially now, when Wheeljack’s glossa laps insistently at his panel, his whole circuitry thrums in want of him. 

“Open up for me Bulk.”

Some bots have called Bulkhead honorable. But he doesn’t feel honorable right now, opening himself up because he can’t resist. Not when it comes to Wheeljack. His spike is half-pressurized from the explosive expert’s attentions to his panel. Wheeljack’s lips brush against the tip of Bulkhead’s spike, at that small initial contact he knows he’s undone.

Pleasure racks his frame as Wheeljack proceeds to kiss and lick and suck. Bulkhead forgets. Forgets Optimus Prime. Forgets where he’s going, what he should be saying. All that comes out of his mouth is static anyway, Wheeljack’s mouth leaves him unintelligible. 

When Jackie releases him, revealing his own leaky valve in the process and tells Bulkhead to spike him, the green Wrecker can only nod. Jackie’s valve is small, small in comparison to Bulkhead’s spike at least. He eases in slowly, ignoring Jackie’s urging to ram in it. He always talks tough, like he’s invulnerable to pain. But Bulkhead knows better.

By the time he’s halfway in, Wheeljack’s valve is stretched and seeping. All that’s coming from the other mech’s vocalizer is low static. But his blue optics are intense as ever and hold Bulkhead in their thrall. A slight raise of his hips and Bulkhead begins to thrust. 

He soon feels Wheeljack pushing back against him, gritting his denta and vocalizer crackling static, trying to take in more of him. All of him. It’s a battle, a victory. Bulkhead’s entire frame is buzzing as his spike disappears inside Wheeljack, brushing against series of sensory nodes. 

Overload comes hard and fast for both of them.

They end up on the floor, Wheeljack splayed on top of Bulkhead’s frame, helm resting on his chest-plate. 

“You wanted to talk about somethin’?”

His voice is lazy and content. Bulkhead can’t bring himself to disrupt this moment with the truth. 

“I’ll tell you later.”


End file.
